The Rocket Playlist: Endlessly
by doofusface
Summary: Frankly, the horde of League of Shadows ninja was problematic. For Sarah.


It was one of their better days. Kinda. Ish. Not really.

Frankly, the horde of League of Shadows ninja was problematic. He had _planned_ on a nice evening out; he should've known better.

More surprising was that he planned, actually. Four years together (she finally said yes after they joined the League, mostly because of Dinah's nudging) and he _never_ planned dates. It was always a random question at the end of a mission, after class, after sparring. They were very comfortable with spontaneity.  
And, really, technically, tonight was going to be very spontaneous-

_Crack. _The acrobat spun, worried... Unnecessarily. His incredibly capable girlfriend (sometimes he forgot) had just dealt a blow to three of the intruders, leaving them in a state of confusion, eyeing the perpendicular corner of the wall and ground. She grinned at him. "Eight here. How about you?"

_Oh, a contest. Okay._

"Same!"

"Prepare to _lose_, Nightwing."

"Not this time, Batgirl."

He turned. A group of five were getting ready to ambush him. He smirked. Three scowled, two cowered. He sprung. In the heat of battle, his senses took over. His training. Dodge, spin, punch, whack. He let himself go; this was as much his element as the trapeze.

"Was that flip really necessary?" She was finishing off her 14th masked man; three were left. "Always is!" Accented with a flip, of course. He was a show man, born and raised. The last Flying Grayson.

Across the street, a thud. _Fifteen. Still tied. _The last two ninja stood on the opposing roof. The couple looked at each other.

_I'm closer._

_I'm quicker._

_Bring it, Grayson._

_No need to tell me twice, Gordon._

(Technically, he was hoping for a name change for one of them. And he knew it wasn't going to be his.)

Dick pulled out an arsenal of acrobatics- up, down, left, right, repeat. The ever-present flip. Some swings. A light landing. Barbara followed, more gracefully ("Ballet lessons? What for?" She would never doubt her father again).

"Nice night, out, huh?"

"Don't flirt with the bad guys."

"I think they like it."

"I think you're delusional."

"I'm actually very lusional, thank you very much."

"Really? A- How rude."

The two remaining masked criminals were retreating, finding their short wave of bickering advantageous. _Rookies. _

A cape and two sticks chased them. A roof. Two. A wall. Three. Down. An alley. The street. Cars. Traffic. Beeping. More. A drowned out sound. A soft, ignored _clink._

The chase continued well into the busy Blüdhaven night, ending at a corner store at "So and so" and "I'll remember it later" streets. Fortunately, the black-clad daredevils stopped running. Unfortunately, it was because they had backup. _Not whelmed. _So _not whelmed._

"Maneuver 7?"

Rhetorical question. A lift, a flip. The rookies standing in the front of the small pack of reinforcements went down. The fresh soldiers circled the heroine. A pause. A stare down. A Bat-smirk. "Hey, Nightwing!" She turned to him, then back to her opponents, her eyes evenly fighting down the glares of a mass of co-ed miscreants. A playful smile painted her profile. "Seventeen!" And into the dark whirlpool she plunged.

Really, she didn't get enough credit. She was more playful than he was (on patrol with him or any of the Batkids, of course; Dick still made the best of all possible antics- childish or not- around Batman). Her laugh? Impeccable. His was just creepy ("That hurt, Artemis." "So did getting shot." "Touché."). The newer members of the Team _loved _her. A 'database of human emotion and conventionality' is what Alfred had called her, once. She knew pretty much everything, _especially _when it came to tracking down hideouts. His best friend. His greatest love.

If the blue on his chest could glow, it would.

_One day..._

Crash. _Oops. _His admiration would have to wait. He charged forward, jumping, elbowing, kneeing, everything-ing.

"Tired?"

"Funny."

_Thud._

"Twenty."

"I'm up by two."

"Technically, I helped with those."

"Too bad!"

She had moved a significant distance. They would have to finish the conversation later. A streak of onyx and blue retaliated, unwilling to be consumed by the black wisps. A number of foes later, he relaxed. Mistake.

Nine seconds later, he found himself draped across the racks of a candy store. Shards lay on the floor. Dust. A move meant to form a chain reaction took down only two of the five he had aimed for. Plastic rings and gummy bears dropped to the floor as he stood and straightened. He looked up. The three he had expected were replaced with one. Gold and blue and black.

He put on his best charm face. "Thirty-two." She laughed. "There's no way you have more than thirty-two." Her eyes challenged him. "You're joking." Another laugh. "Seriously?!" He was exasperated. Her three-year win streak was still intact (it didn't help that he only won before because she read the rules of a board game wrong).

She walked over. He sighed. She said, "You're stuck with me, for now, at least, so get used to it." He said, "Why not forever?" She said, "What?" He kneeled. She blanked. He reached for a hidden pocket. She was shocked. He searched for the ring. She let the smile grow. He searched for the ring. She stopped. He searched for the ring. She lowered her face. He searched for the ring. She raised an eyebrow.

"That wasn't funny."

"It wasn't a joke, I swear!"

"Then whe-"

"I don't-"

He deadpanned. The cars. He hit a hood accidentally (the car came out of nowhere). He had grabbed the eskrima stick, and- a clink. A splash. _Wally will never let me hear the end of this._

"There's a _slight _possibility it may have fallen into the sewage system."

"How slight is 'slight'?"

"Definite?"

"..."

"We'll laugh about this someday, just-"

Crunch. Squish. The gummy bears and candy worms at his feet had company. Rings. He grabbed one.

"I promise you, if you accept, I will _beg _Bruce to cover the other one."

"How romantic."

She took the candy-decked ring anyway. They kissed.

"I bought the house, Barb."

"The one with the-"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was thinking, we could do the Wally-Artemis thing, retire but not really."

They sat on the countertop of the check out cubicle.

"You want kids. I want kids. How is-"

"You want to retire from the field, right? Steph's ready. You know she is. Besides, the Snapper needs help coordinating everyone."

He pulled out a dollar, hacking the counter to put it in.

"Okay, say I give her the cowl. What would _I _be called?"

"Alfred said that thing that one time."

"At the dinner?"

"Yeah, 'O'-something."

"'Oracle?'"

His face lit up.

"That's the one."


End file.
